Yet again out of necessity for my Lighting class I did a random ass shoot.  My friend Teen (yes like teenage mutant ninja turtles) does special effects makeup  and I asked her to essentially beat someone up.  She recruited her friend James and went to work.  Apparently James got jumped by multiple people, but, was enough of a bad ass to just chill in front of the camera after.  Teen worked her magic and James looked like he had been cut open on his side, and taken several hits to the face.  Here are the resulting shots – seriously, Teen is a beast, she did such a fabulous job.  So many thanks to her!

And then Teen made herself into Jame’s crackhead girlfriend…so that was entertaining.
This next one I think is really funny.  James was just stretching between shots and he did this and I said, “DON’T MOVE!” and shot him just kind of stretching.  I thought it was kind of a funny nod to advertising photography, you know the good looking guy showing off his bod and being like, “Oh hey person behind the camera, come here.” And yet he’s beat up and bloody.  I thought the contrast was funny, but maybe that’s just me.

as the snow falls and the streets frost,

the skies frown and the trees bare,

i hear you on the phone in whispers and yells.

last night left a bruise and a pink little rose,

today froze the night’s breath

and i feel you re-igniting what’s been dead.

the snow turns to ice and crunches under my boots

the roads become slick and so do you.

snow, stay, one more day…

because it’s so much better this way.

Yesterday December 3, 2009 we had our basketball practical test for Phys Ed it was for catching and trowing the ball with a partner while doing side steps. I did pretty well because I’ve been practicing for a few weeks now and I  have an advantage because I’m one of the best catchers in the softball team (not that its anything related to basketball).

Anyways I start my school day with a bit of tweeting until I realized that I didn’t have any load for the past few days so I went to the book store to buy a load card and then… I was broke. Okay, so my day didn’t go well until I got a great score on my Phys Ed test.

The test was quite easy we only had to do 3 simple passes a chest pass, a bounce pass, and a over-head pass. I did the the first pass chest pass and I made a mistake, the first throw I did was a over-head pass so I got a minus one on that passing test (I know, unfair right?) we did the passes flawlessly (Yieeeeee!) until my partner threw the last over-head pass. I thought the test was finished but our teacher requested for a last pass, when my partner threw the ball my fingers were caught off guard and the ball gave my right index finger (the finger after your thumb) a HUGE impact! It hurt a lot but I didn’t mind it for the last period till lunch.

The last period before lunch was Filipino (the subject where we learn Filipino grammar) we were requested to perform a remake of any story and we chose Twilight it was funny though I played Eric who was gay for Edward (lol.) we made it real funny and who would’ve thought that ours was the best act. After that the teacher asked for a 1/4 sheet of paper that had our  names on it so I volunteered to write it when I gripped the pen I felt a electric shock like pain on my index finger so I gave the paper to a group mate she looked like she was wondering but I didn’t mind it what I minded was my finger that was way swelling .

When it was time for lunched i grabbed one of friend to come with me to the school clinic then the clinic put cold compress to my finger. After 20 minutes of VERY cold compress the nurse let me see the doctor then she wanted me to come back before I go home then she escorted me to the nurse’s office and put a Popsicle splint on my finger. Then the pain really started to pick-up so when it was time for dismissal I hurried to the clinic.

At the clinic the doctor took off the splint and examined my finger. My finger’s condition got worse it swelled way out of control and the front part was fully covered with a real violent, violet bruise. So the doctor gave me the way to the nearest hospital to get my finger x-rayed. The check-up is insured by the school so I don’t have to pay anything and it turned out my join was fractured and pretty much will swell for 2-3 weeks  so now I can’t write neatly, my type writing is already 26 WPM, and I can’t click right sigh…

I may have had a minor run-in with the wall last night, on my way to rescue dinner from being burned to a crisp… I was enlightened to my burning steak by the smoke detector buzzing, and as such, panicked, causing the wall to panic and not move out of my way. As a result, I have a lovely, bright red bruise on my hip today.

Mel would like to blame a lack of sleep, induced by the need to bake at random hours of the morning, on the next incident, however I’m going to lay fault with a slippery floor… We (the floor and myself) may have had a rather intimate (albeit brief) meeting this morning on the way to coffee. The emerging owie from this encounter is a grazed knee, which I imagine will be bruised by later this afternoon…

Sometimes I can go weeks without accidentally injuring myself. However, some weeks are ripe for encounters with walls, sharp objects, pointy corners, objects on the floor, signposts, lamp standards, slippery patches of leaves or snow, curbs and stairs.

One of my favourite moments occurred a decade ago. I was walking up the stairs at college and I tripped. Tripping up stairs is a fine art, let me tell ya. The best part about that trip was that I spilt hot chocolate all over my face and hair in the process. My face and hair took the brunt of the lukewarm hot chocolate and nary a drop landed on the stairs.

The force of the trip sent the liquid upwards where it appeared to almost hover mid-air as a giant mass of chocolaty goodness – then, feeling the pull of gravity, it landed on my face and hair.

Klutz Summary for the Week of November 22 – 28, 2009:

• There is a nebulous black and blue bruise on my outer left thigh. This bruise is a mystery to me, though I vaguely recall crashing into one of the arms of the couch on Sunday morning.

• Late Monday afternoon I incurred fishnet burns on my knees. I will leave it up to your imagination to figure out how I got those fishnet burns. For those of you who have never seen a fishnet burn, I’ve included an image of one from years ago.

Such a pretty fishnet burn.

• Late Tuesday night I became entangled in a blanket on the couch. My struggle to untangle myself resulted in my right foot sliding under the sofa cushion. A firm downward yank removed my foot from its lodging, but in the process, I stabbed the top of my foot on a sharp corner on the base of my coffee table. The bruise is a dark purple isosceles triangle and only hurts if I poke it deeply in the centre. I don’t mind. It’s sort of pretty, though it’s ugly green sister is expected in a few days.
• Stabbing my foot on the coffee table hurt a lot. I fell off the couch because of the pain. That pain was immediately superseded by the pain in my upper right arm because I rammed my bicep into the sharp corner of the top of the coffee table – right in that spot in the middle of the arm that’s home to a big bundle of nerves. I saw spots and whimpered on the floor for a good thirty seconds. Surprisingly, there is no bruise. There is, however, a small gash. I’m hoping this turns into a lovely little battle scar.
• Early Wednesday evening, whilst walking out of the solarium (which is home to my office) I clocked my head on the wall. I don’t know this happened. I think the wall moved. The bump is hidden by my hair and not noticeable. The only casualty is an off kilter mirror.
• Thursday was uneventful.
• Mid Friday afternoon, I decided to make parsnip and bacon soup. Wielding a very sharp vegetable peeler to use on the parsnips, I peeled a very fine layer of skin and flesh off the knuckle of my left thumb with one exuberant stroke. The wound stings and reminds me of those very thin slices of human brain you often see in medical slides.
• Early Saturday afternoon, I organized my walk-in closet. This was long overdue. Propped in the back I found a long wooden dowel that I used as a curtain rod in my previous home. Having no need for this thick, round, long piece of wood, I decided the best place for it would be in my storage locker. My arms piled high with Rubbermaid containers and the wooden dowel perched precariously on top, I ventured downstairs via the elevator. I tripped as I exited the elevator. The wooden dowel rolled off the top of the containers, bounced onto the floor, and rolled away, but not before I somehow stabbed myself in the crotch as it bounced. There is no bruising, though my vagina is tender.

I wrote this the night before I jetted off to sunny Rarotonga. (because I sure as hell wasn’t sleeping.) I’m not sure if I’ll be able to blog while away (do tropical beaches get wifi coverage??) and I didn’t want you to get bored. I know. How conscientious and thoughtful of me. I’m practically a fucking saint.

To be honest though? The main reason I wrote these posts was to get my mind off this.

Why Taekwon Do?

I get lots of people asking me why I took up TKD… I mean.. The bruises and stuff I carry around can be kind of awful.

I’ve had lots of Balck eyes from tournament sparring:

(a small selection)

My arms pretty much always look like I’ve had a run in with an abusive ex:

(from conditioning blocking stuff
- also, yes, I write all over my hands.)

And I’ve always got a couple of gnarly looking bruises that no matter how hard I try to remember, I can never quite explain:

(Who knows… Maybe it’s from getting a kick wrong??)

So I showed you these photos so that you’d realize just how much my bruises get on the average day. It’s better now, but it still takes time.

So why did I take up a sport that gets me so much attention when really I should be making an effort to fly under the radar?

From where I stand, there seems to be two main schools of thought – Martial Arts, and Self Defense. Martial art is all about killing blows, and war. Self Defense is all about practicality, and use in every day life.

TKD is a martial art. It’s nothing if it isn’t all about strength, control,  and power.

Most of the stuff I learn I will never be able to use full strength on a human being.

Some might argue that in that sense it’s impractical, and I’d tend to agree – if that was why I had taken up the art. It’s not.

I took up Taekwon Do at a time in my life where I desperately needed to feel strong again. My life felt like it was spinning out of my control, and I was dealing with some pretty rough flashbacks.

I wanted something to make me powerful again. Taekwon Do fit into the gap nicely.

It also gave me confidence – another thing I was severely lacking in. AND to boot, it taught me the basics of how to handle myself better in a fight, and some very key ideas for self defense.

So while the skills I’m learning are handy. They’re helping me do good things with my life.

It also helps that my instructor is always pushing us to try new things. We freely admit that no one art has all the right answers for every situation, so we always take the opportunity to try stuff out. That’s why I’ve done so many self defense courses.

So despite the bruises, and despite all the people who laugh at me for wasting my time breaking ceiling tiles and wooden boards (really, I broke 4 stacked tiles the other day with my bare fist in a downwards punch. It made me feel like superman) I think it’s worth it.

So I went to the doctor and felt like a complete idiot… He’s a very kind man (who incidentally reminds me of Yoda), but he has the incredible talent of making you feel like a 7 year old with a boo-boo… The conversation went something like this:

Yoda: How can I help you today?

Idiot: Well it’s a couple of things… I’ve been getting awful pains in my hands after work

Yoda: What do you do at work?

Idiot: Ummm… I type… a lot

Yoda: Ah *wiggles my hands around a bit and gives them a good feel* Yep, it’s tenosynovitis, probably from typing… So there was something else?

Idiot: Oh right, yeh, my knee… I fell over and it’s been difficult to walk on, swollen, bruised and painfull

*Idiot shows knee*

*Yoda feels knee*

Yoda: Right, that’s bruised and it’ll probably be painful for a while… Anything else

Idiot: Oh… ok… Is there anything I can do to help my hands or knee?

Yoda: Rest

Idiot: ….. thanks then, bye… *hobbles out, struggling with doorknob*

Luckily, my hand has been happier lately. The knee is still *%”#@> awful – super bruised, super painful and quite swollen… Yay

Ouchy knee, one week later

I am a girl. (Shocking, I know.) What I mean is, I was raised in a world where body image is highly valued and hard to come by. Very few girls grow up loving their bodies. Very few women don’t have something they’d like to change about their appearance. So, for someone who struggles with body image, marks are a particularly interesting challenge.

For me, it has been a journey.

I’m a clumsy person, accident prone. I bruise easily and they don’t go away quickly. Thus I’ve always had a bruise or two, usually on my legs from tables, counters and chairs. But those are small and explainable, and generally hidden by pants.

In college, I discovered biting, and occasionally came home with Very large marks on my neck. I’d wear a scarf when “adults” were around (Parent’s Weekend, twice), but mostly I just giggled because it had been really fun getting the “hickey.”

Then I joined the local community.

There were rope suspensions that left tiger stripe bruises. The discovery of suspension was so wonderful to me that I treasured these marks, the represented the incredible experience I was having.

As I moved into heavier play, there came more bruising, bigger bruising, whip kisses. If I was going out in public where these bruises would be visible, I would ask my partners to not bruise me. I was ashamed of the marks. They seemed to me to show how “bad” I was. Show the world that I do “inappropriate” things.

But the longer I stayed active in the community, the more I came to truly understand there was nothing wrong with what I was doing. That it was part of me. That it was part of my being. That what I was doing was coming out of love and trust and joy. The bruises, like the rope marks, came to symbolize the relationships, the happiness, the fun and the pleasure.

There were also pictures and a photographer that teased that the bruises were marring his shots. This was the hardest part for me. He is a good friend and his words struck old chords in me. That I was doing something “bad” and “wrong” and I should be ashamed. With the help of my partners, I dragged myself back out of this hole. Now when he asks if he’ll ever get pictures of me without bruises, I just grin and tell him Nope. They are a part of me, part of who I am and what I do. Some girls get diamonds, I think my bruises are prettier.

Hello, pleased to meet you. Let me introduce myself : I don’t have a name, neither a home, but what I have is a job, kinda pastime actually, which makes me the most odious person you’ve ever meet. When you see me around the corner, or in the nook of your favourite pub, inside a cloud of smoke, you don’t know me. Not yet. Unaware of the danger that tenderly wraps you, you try to cross my look, once or twice, triyng to see what’s hidden under this black hat. Cigarette after cigarette, glass after glass, your glances turn to stares, but all that you can see is my hands and my lips when my fag catches fire. At the end, when your brain is swimming in vodka, we start to talk and, forgetting why you were here, you close your eyes, tasting the smell of the evening, breathing my skin, swallowing my words like candies. Your body gets closer, I can see through your eyes, your mind’s clear like an open book.My face on your neck, I kiss your ear, and I whisper : I didn’t introduce myself. Nobody, soulbreaker.

The summit of Mt. Fuji.

Having completed our trek up and down Mt. Fuji, with my leg in a degree of controlled agony, my eyes almost cemented together through lack of sleep and my underarms more malodorous than twelve-hour roadkill, getting naked in a Japanese hot-spring (onsen, in the native tongue) was not my idea of relaxation. I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

The onsen was basically a public bath-house. With my prudish English streak in overload, I felt bloody uncomfortable about climbing into some massive communal bath with my Crown Jewels exposed for the entire orient to see. This, of course, highlights the typical male ego; no one really wanted to look at my member, for they were of course washing themselves and not rampantly drunk homosexuals bent on assailing my genitalia (though I’m positive an old fellow kept eyeing me from the jacuzzi…). After a somewhat timid first soak, it was relatively easy to feel, well, at ease, though I’m sure it would have been a lot worse if the bath-houses hadn’t been gender divided. Oh, that would have been dreamily awkward…

Me big European man…

I do apologise, I was…fantasising…

Ahem.

There were several hot baths (some incredibly hot) and one extremely icy cold bath that I suppose had some sort of cleansing, homeopathic healing thing that my increasingly hippie mum would probably buy in for. I lasted about twenty seconds in the sauna before I felt like my body would implode. How can anyone breathe in those damn things? I thought I was experiencing some sort of mild heart-attack. The outdoor bath was certainly the best, despite the view of several Japanese men sunning themselves on the loungers. With such fine Japanese weather, the cooling breeze and the warm water would’ve easily put me to sleep. Regardless, it was an experience I wouldn’t forget, and one that become twice more familiar in the coming week.

We left the onsen at around two o’clock in the afternoon and got back to Tokyo at about four, arriving at H.’s an hour and a half or so later. As I lay down in my room, I was aware that my leg ache was still very much there; trying to ignore it, I closed my eyes in a vain effort to sleep, but to no avail.  The pain was too overpowering. Considering my options, I knew I would have to act. Realising a trip to the doctor would be in order, I told H. and was whisked off to the local hospital.

Early comments from the hospital receptionist said that any sort of x-ray or scan would cost upwards in the region of €500. With only about €350 left, ‘concerned’ would have been putting it lightly. A young chap saw to me; he was extremely polite (with truly awesome hair) and H. did all the translating for me. The doctor was left rather puzzled – he gave no ultimate diagnosis, as I seemed to have no pain in the areas he expected me to have any, and pain in the areas he didn’t. After climbing Mt. Fuji, it was also pretty difficult to pinpoint exactly where the ache was coming from. He said I had a 1% chance of having developed DVT (in my hypochondria, I had linked my dead-leg incident on the plane to my shin) but considered it very unlikely at my age; eventually, he said it may have been the side-effect of some sort of flu as I appeared to have a mild fever. Bizarrely, he overlooked the glaring yellow bruise complete with matching lump on my lower leg, instead prescribing aspirin and heat-wraps. Being a startling delightful fellow (or more likely thinking, “Haha, you dumb fuck, get travel insurance next time!”), he charged nothing for the consultation.

Considering my mind had been put at ease, I immediately felt better. A little internet research in the evening revealed that my ache had probably been caused by a bone bruise. The bruise itself would disappear in days, but the lump could remain for months or more. Indeed, it’s only been this month – the start of November –  that I have noted its more-or-less complete absence. Funnily enough, I still get the odd pain there, depending on the weather. Frightfully unspiffing of it. Still, I rather preferred that over an aneurysm or tissue-eating necrosis.

The weekend passed lazily. D., disappeared off for a few hours to meet some of his work-camp friends in Tokyo (he had been in Japan a month prior to my arrival), and H. and I traipsed about the local vicinity, checking out the large, sprawling malls and arcades. My gods, do the Japanese know how to shop. And play arcade games. And drift RC cars.

Arcades in Europe *seriously* need to catch up.

Frightfully moreish Japanese snacks.

A Nakagawa mall, with its own RC racing track. Oh yes.

My leg was recovering well and I felt spritelier than I had before. We spent our idle hours planning the next week’s agenda – Nagoya, Nara, Osaka and Kyoto were all on the cards. It was going to be very busy, indeed.

Leaning toward the mirror with one hand on the vanity,  getting ready to go back “one more time” I inspect my face.  Applying concealer to the spot above my lip on the left side, right above my mouth from the crease of my lips, up about an inch…     Purple with dots of red and yellow - I blot it with a thick, creamy ivory concealer, I rub it in.  I see in the mirror a dark bruise, I realize from my reflection… I bruise easily.

I put on more eyeshadow and mascara to be consistent with the whorish amount of concealer and cover-up I have on as a mask.  Still wearing the brown T shirt and torn mini skirt I left his apartment in.  Like a flash i recall when  he asked me while we were still laying naked in bed if it hurt me when I leave him.  I said, “no, i just don’t think about you.”  He said, “I’ll have to try that trick.”  We drank our coffee and talked about books.  I got dressed back in the clothes I arrived in, only taking a pair of my panties out of his drawer that I left the time before.  As we walked to the door he took his camera off the tripod and became my paparazzi once again.  He kissed me simply and lovingly as I said, “I’ll see you later tonight, just one more time.” He smiled.  I told him good-bye and shut the door.

Battle wounds on my face, nicely covered up from his ravaging last night.  He was, as I told him would be the title of my book some day, Vulgarly Romantic.  I distinctly remember my most pleasurable moment:  We were on his bed, he on top, in the midst of our positions while reacquainting ourselves, our bodies - the physical and intimate fork in the road.  He repeatedly shoved his enormous and hard cock so deep inside me that I was in pain before pleasure, my organs were being pierced and pounded fiercely.  I was crawling up the bed on my back moaning from the rearrangement that was occurring.  The palms of my feet involuntarily found themselves pushing against the toppest part of his thies attempting to push this… this…  I don’t know, maybe Caveman… but push his thrusts backwards and my body upwards to ease this transaction.  He became a wild beast searching for prey, instinctively knowing from this action of mine that I was a wounded baby tiger.  He roared. laid his heavy, strong chiseled body on top of mine, quickly rolling over my feet and legs to straighten them so he could continue to consume his new victim.  Raping me, even tho I persisted.  The pain was so great I wanted him to cum, knowing this, he refused with empowering delight.  I could feel his kiss on my mouth, making me cum and soak his newly batchellored sheets. He looked at me and engulfed my mouth with his, then leaned back with his back straight, still fucking me… I put my hands on what I call his “fuck muscles” and focused on his eyes.  Completely submitting to him from this gesture more so than with the heavy slap to my face that made a trace of blood come about the crease in my mouth I touched his face and brought him to me.

I set my nude lipstick on the counter next to the sink and took a step back from the mirror pleased with my transformation.  I wash my hands and the make up I mixed on the back of my hand… seeing the colors go down the drain like the memory of last night.  I remove my war attire and get my suit out of the closet, carefully dressing so not to smear any prejudices on anything I take to work.  Wondering how I will go on with my secret as just my own, knowing I can do nothing other than that.  Guilty for giving in to Man, but content with being true to myself.

The last time this happened it was for or five ears ago …. I was in visit at my sister, it was late in the night. I can’t remember whether we went in a club and we came back home … or it was just that I was very tiered. I was not hungry but I knew I had to eat something … I have mentioned a time ago that each time I feel sick I eat something and start feeling a bit better. I tried to eat something but didn’t got the chance as I lost my conscience before. I think I hit the table somehow with my back as I had a terrible bruise on my back …. my sister got very scared as I had some convulsions ….

it didn’t happened again …. even though I had the feeling of being dizzy or having head each, very often even lately …. not until now …

It was strange … usually I feel sick before … I wake up dizzy or have such a feeling … but I woke up normal. Took my laptop and went in the kitchen for the breakfast. I placed my laptop on the table and wanted to take the bread. I started getting cold … but it is not the feeling of being cold … it start’s with the hands. They get colder and colder. You feel them dry and bloodless. Then it gets to the face. You feel needles in your cheeks. They’re getting colder and colder. And also you feel them dry … like there would be no blood running into your veins. … I didn’t panicked … I usually control these kind of feelings, and manage to pass over. Some time ago I had a discussion with Budri about spasmodically. He teached me a very interesting lesson about spasmodics. When people usually have the symptoms of getting spasmodic they get panicked, which will increase the level of adrenaline into their blood and get their hart run faster, which will finally go to collapse and loosing conscience. Since this discussion I have tried to control my symptoms and I must admit it really works. I have also tried today, I stood on the chair let the bread on the table …. and then …. then I felt like I was in my bead. It was worm and comfy. I know I dreamed about something … I can’t really remember what it was about … but I know I wandered what have happened with me … whether I have dreamed that I woke up and went in the kitchen … then I realized I was laying on the kitchen’s floor … the chair was down also … I had a taste of blood in my mouth … I didn’t knew what have happened … I couldn’t realize what was going on … then I remembered I felt sick, and the symptoms I had before … I started making sens about what have happened to me … I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t … the second part of the crisis was about to start …. I stood there as the convulsions shake my body … I felt cold … as the floor was cold … I was trembling … Soon after the convulsions … the sensation of not being able to control my body passed … I was able to get up, but still had to sit in order to get in touch with the real world. I realized then that it was one of my lips that was bleeding not my nose as I thought. I eat a banana – for the sweets, as usually these crisis are because of lack of sweets/ sugar into the blood … I started feeling a bit better … and was able to get to the bathroom … I looked into the mirror … I saw my face dirty with blood … my lip in broken and still bleeding … an ugly bruise under the right eye … still humanly acceptable … I look like after a bad fight with my boyfriend … if I had one … so I can justify …. I washed my face … still couldn’t wash it very good as I still felt dizzy and thought it would be much better to go in to the bead. I reached my comfy bead … and tried to put myself together …. still had the bad head each …. and felt my bones heavy …

I stood a couple of minutes in my bead …. couldn’t do anything … just thought what should I do next … I feel much better now … I have cleaned the blood into the kitchen, and eat something. I still feel dehydrated … like there would be no blood running into my veins … I feel my skin dry … I can’t think which could have been the cause of this crisis … I haven’t felt bad … for a long time … I had a terrible head each yesterday … but it was nothing unusual about that ….

It came to my mind … something foolish and strange … when I touched my skin … and felt it very dry … it came to my mind that is feels like the skin of a dead man … the skin of my past uncle … it came to my mind the fact that last night I felt the smell of my past uncle …

So I had a sore throat yesterday and today I have a cold.

Then a massive bruise appeared where Mum had given me my Clexane injection (to treat my clot / dvt). I’d show you a picture but unfortunately I don’t have a wide angle lens for my camera and my stomach is so enormous it won’t fit in the picture. 

So I called the hospital and spoke with a Registrar who didn’t have any answers so I asked if he or I could speak with Jenny (my haematologist). She called me back and asked me to come in:

Got there and was given a mask and a blood test. The mask was because I was in HACU (Haematology and Cancer Unit) and they can’t take risks that I could give any of the patients whatever I have.

Showed my bruise, sweated and waited.

Platelets 105

No Clexane until after next platelet test

Now on antibiotics – mostly just as a precaution for my joints.

Go back again tomorrow to find out if I am going to the Hunter?

Stay tuned.

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Sports Medicine and Traumeel:

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Dr. Lundstrom’s Advice about Sports Medicine and Traumeel:

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Learn More About Traumeel:

Read about Traumeel on Facebook.

Heel Worldwide’s Traumeel website.

Watch an animated movie about the Mechanism of Action in Traumeel.

Learn about a Clinical Trial of Traumeel: It found that “[a]ll subjects’ vital signs [who took Traumeel for 28 days] remained stable throughout the study.”

Other Clinical Studies:

• Böhmer, D., Ambrus, P. Treatment of Sports Injuries with Traumeel Ointment,A Controlled Double-Blind Study; Biological Therapy Vol. X (4): 290-300 (1992)
• Birnesser, H., Oberbaum, M., Klein, P., Weiser, M. The homeopathic preparation Traumeel S compared with NSAIDs for symptomatic treatment of epicondylitis; Journal of Musculoskeletal Research 2004; Vol. 8: 119-128
• Schneider, C., Klein, P., Stolt, P., Oberbaum, M. A homeopathic ointment preparation compared with 1% diclofenac gel for acute symptomatic treatment of tendinopathies; Explore Vol. 1 (6): 446-452 (2005)
• Zell, J., Connert, W.-D., Mau, J., Feuerstake, G. Treatment of Acute Sprains of the Ankle: A Controlled Double-Blind Trial to Test the Effectiveness of a Homeopathic Ointment; Biological Therapy 1989; Vol. VII (1): 1-6

Purchase Traumeel from Natural Mountain Health:

Traumeel tablets: for regular use.

Traumeel ointment: for localized use on painful areas.

If you can’t fold, it hold it!  That change hurts!

(Besides, I bruise easily. : ) )

Last week, I had the unfortunate not-scary-but-deserving-of-a-bit-of-worry experience of having a big horrible-looking bruise after undergoing blood extraction for our annual physical examination. It was such a bummer! Everybody who sees it either cringe in disgust, be amazed by its abnormally walloping size or just stare at it with pity probably thinking that it will never go away.

It was quite fun at least, seeing the bruise with its pink color with a tinge of blue. I especially love the bluish part of the bruise. Can’t help staring at it for hours at the office. But then, the day after, it turned into purplish black and it became bigger. I was not worried at that time since they said it was normal if you had an inexperienced and (I hate to say this…) stupid phlebotomist for your blood extraction. But then, a friend told me that he’s seen a video in YouTube that involves a bruise acquired through needles (either the extraction or injection of something) and that bruise became infected and then pus came out of it. He said it was really gross! I was definitely scared. What if the same thing happens to me?!?!?

So, I immediately asked my sister about the bruise. And she said that this is what must be done.

WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU HAVE A BRUISE AS A RESULT OF BLOOD EXTRACTION

1. Check if the bruise feels hot. If it does then it is infected and you have to go to the doctor immediately.
2. If the temperature is normal, then your lucky.
3. My sister told me to apply warm compress on the bruise but then according to my research, you have to apply cold compress on bruises for the first 24 hours upon acquiring that said bruise. So being a hard-headed girl and yet ironically obedient one, I applied cold compress on my bruise since I was advised by a friend to do so.
4. Wait for the bruise to disappear or not-to-disappear. Either way, all you can do at this time is to wait….

I was quite curious about the relationship between needles and bruising, so I asked our company nurse. She said that the bruise is a result of a punctured vein during blood extraction (and I would like to add that the punctured vein is a result of having an inexperienced phlebotomist).  The blood in the punctured vein would seep out of the vein and spread to the nearby cells thus causing the bruise.

Now, the bruise is disappearing!! Yey!! I know it would be wishful thinking to reckon that I would not be submitted into this kind of mental torture (LOL!) again since there will still be a physical examination next year. Yikes! So good luck to me! I’ll be hoping that my veins would get thicker each year… Hehehe… I wish

That’s right, the weather channel is forecasting accumulation overnight tonight from 8-14 inches for the “Metro” area of Denver and 1-2 feet for the foothills, keep your fingers crossed for a snow day or 2!!!  If it snows 14 inches, I’ll be planning on leaving the Jeep at home and taking the bus, I am so glad we have a 4 wheel drive vehicle for the winter…but when it gets to be that much I’ll leave the driving to someone else (especially since my 1.5 mile drive in the morning includes merging across 3 lanes of traffic and a left turn, all not fun when the people around you seem to think 55 is an appropriate winter driving speed).  I know I sound like a weenie…but, well, I am!  I hate driving in the snow, not because of myself, but because of all the people around me!  I really think that the state of CO is split 50/50 with the people who  moved here from other states and drive too slow in the snow and people who’ve lived here all their lives and think they can drive whatever speed they want in any conditions.  And then there’s me, who thinks a reasonable speed of 10 or so below the speed limit is perfect for treacherous driving conditions.

Anyway, off my soap box, this has to be a short post as I slammed my arm into a metal cabinet last night…which is why I didn’t post last night, it hurts to type, use my computer mouse and twist my arm.  Chris said it’s probably not broken as I haven’t cried…but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like the dickens!  ouch!!!!!  Last night was a rough night injury wise.  I wrecked my arm before leaving work, and then right before bed I was trying to pick out an outfit to wear today and managed to scratch off the remaining scab from my marathon sport bra chafing…and couldn’t figure out why my hand felt wet – til I looked down and saw blood running down my chest.  Ick!!!  I’m bandaged and bruised this morning, and counting down til my next dose of Advil.

Breakfast this morning was eaten at my desk, a cup of office coffee (in my Monsters’ Inc mug, obviously), 2 pieces of the addicting apple fritter bread from Target, a cup of Stoneyfield Strawberry yogurt and 1 bite of a Morningstar Farms sausage patty (I think I overcooked it as it was hard as a rock).

I didn’t run this morning.  I woke up at 4:11 (alarm set to go off at 4:30) and my arm hurt, and I have three bandages on my chest, so, well, I went back to sleep!  Depending on the blizzard and when I get out of here tonight I’ll run 2 miles this morning or tomorrow morning.  This week’s mileage will be very light as it’s my first full week back from the marathon.  I am going to nix any 30 Day Shred until my arm quits throbbing, as I can’t imagine lifting weights is good for whatever damage I did with the cabinet door.

I also still owe you my Progresso review…hopefully more to come on that later tonight!  Did you see So You Think You Can Dance last night?  Do you have a favorite yet? I’m undecided, but cannot wait for tonight’s episode!